feudalendeavorfall2014 - Scriptorium Exeter Book Elegies

The Exeter Book Elegies: "The Wanderer"

Always the one alone longs for mercy,	Group 1: The one alone is asking for God's mercy.
the Maker’s mildness, though, troubled in mind,	The "Maker" is likely referring to God.
across the ocean-ways he has long been forced	The "he" here is the Wanderer (it is not capitalized). However, capitalization is a modern translation. Might have been different in the original text.
to stir with his hands the frost-cold sea,	Frost cold sea can be a metaphor for a difficult challenge
and walk in exile’s paths. Wyrd is fully fixed! 5	Wyrd means fate. This is suggesting that fate can't be changed.
Thus spoke the Wanderer, mindful of troubles,
of cruel slaughters and the fall of dear kinsmen:	The Wanderer has lost family.
“Often alone, every first light of dawn,	Every morning during sunrise
I have had to speak my sorrows. There is no one living	He talks about his sorrows, maybe talking to God or praying. There is no one else to speak to.
to whom I would dare to reveal clearly 10	Would only reveal himself to God
my deepest thoughts. I know it is true
that it is in the lordly nature of a nobleman
to closely bind his spirit’s coffer,	Coffer is a small box, usually used to hold treasures
hold his treasure-hoard, whatever he may think.	Group 2:
The weary mind cannot withstand wyrd, 15	Being consumed by his fate, falling into sorrow.
the troubled heart can offer no help,
and so those eager for fame often bind fast	Pursuing material gain brings no spiritual joy.
in their breast-coffers a sorrowing soul,	Greedy heart equals poor soul.
just as I have had to take my own heart —
often wretched, cut off from my homeland, 20	Having a greedy heart is why he was cut off from his homeland.
far from dear kinsmen — and bind it in fetters,	Group3: Far from my closest relatives- and my heart is bound in shackles. He is miserable
ever since long ago I hid my gold-giving friend	The Wanderer cut off ties with a friend who always asked for money
in the darkness of earth, and went wretched,	I became miserable in the nighttime
winter-sad, over the binding waves,
sought, hall-sick, a treasure-giver, 25
wherever I might find, far or near,	He is searching for someone- his relatives?
someone in a meadhall who knew of my people,	Meadhall- great hall of the king (beer tavern)
or who’d want to comfort me, friendless,
accustom me to joy. He who has come to know
how cruel a companion is sorrow 30	Sorrow is his "companion"
to one who has few dear protectors, will understand this:
the path of exile claims him, not patterned gold,	"He is a slave to exile"
a frost-bound spirit, not the solace of earth.	His spirit is depressed even though he has the comfort of earth around him.
He remembers hall-holders and treasure-taking,	The Wanderer is nostalgic here
how in his youth his gold-giving lord 35	"Gold-giving" is important!
accustomed him to the feast—that joy all fades.	"Nothing lasts forever"
And so he who has long been forced to forego
his dear lord’s beloved words of counsel will understand:
when sorrow and sleep both together
often bind up the wretched exile, 40
it seems in his mind that he clasps and kisses
his lord of men, and on his knee lays
hands and head, as he sometimes long ago
in earlier days enjoyed the gift-throne.	The above lines seem to describe how difficult exile is. He is utterly depressed.
But when the friendless man awakens again 45
and sees before him the fallow waves,	"fallow waves"- ocean/ waves is a motif for the Wanderer
seabirds bathing, spreading their feathers,
frost falling and snow, mingled with hail,
then the heart’s wounds are that much heavier,	Every new day he wakes up, he is even more sad because he sees his disconnection to nature (and everything else).
pain after pleasure. Sorrow is renewed 50	Every morning the cycle of sorrow starts again.
when the mind flies out to the memory of kinsmen;	Group #4 when you remember a loved one
he greets them with great joy, greedily surveys	he's pleased with his friends remembering him
hall-companions — they always swim away;	their memories always drift from him
the floating spirits bring too few	fellow dead warriors are not generous
well-known voices. Cares are renewed 55	in terms of prayers. Prayers are renewed
for one who must send, over and over,	for myself
a weary heart across the binding of the waves.	more and more friends to death
And so I cannot imagine for all this world	I can't understand
why my spirit should not grow dark	how I maintain my hopeful feelings
when I think through all this life of men, 60	when all this darkness plagues the world
how they suddenly gave up the hall-floor,	how these warriors fail
mighty warrior tribes. Thus this middle-earth	these MIGHTY warriors! thus this world
droops and decays one day at a time;	falls deeper into darkness
and so a man cannot become wise, before he has weathered	and so a man needs to be patient
his share of winters in this world. A wise man must be patient, 65	and suffer through trials
neither too hot-hearted nor too hasty with words,	and maintain a middle ground
nor too weak in war nor too unwise in thoughts,	not too reckless or stupid
neither fearful nor fawning, nor too greedy for wealth,	neither too scared or joyful
never eager for boasting before he truly understands;
a man must wait, when he makes a boast, 70
until the brave spirit understands truly
whither the thoughts of his heart will turn.
The wise man must realize how ghostly it will be
when all the wealth of this world stands waste,
as now here and there throughout this middle-earth 75
walls stand blasted by wind,
beaten by frost, the buildings crumbling.
The wine halls topple, their rulers lie
deprived of all joys; the proud old troops
all fell by the wall. War carried off some, 80
sent them on the way, one a bird carried off
over the high seas, one the gray wolf
shared with death—and one a sad-faced man
hid in an earthen grave. The ancient
ruler of men thus wrecked this enclosure, 85
until the old works of giants stood empty,
without the sounds of their former citizens.
He who deeply considers, with wise thoughts,
this foundation and this dark life,
old in spirit, often remembers 90
so many ancient slaughters, and says these words:
‘Where have the horses gone? where are the riders? where is the giver of gold?
Where are the seats of the feast? where are the joys of the hall?
O the bright cup! O the brave warrior!
O the glory of princes! How the time passed away, 95
slipped into nightfall as if it had never been!’
There still stands in the path of the dear warriors
a wall wondrously high, with serpentine stains.
A torrent of spears took away the warriors,
bloodthirsty weapons, wyrd the mighty, 100
and the storms batter the stone walls,
frost falling binds up the earth,
the chaos of winter, when blackness comes,
night’s shadow looms, sends down from the north
harsh hailstones in hatred of men. 105
All is toilsome in the earthly kingdom,
the working of wyrd changes the world under heaven.
Here wealth is fleeting, here friends are fleeting,
here man is fleeting, here woman is fleeting,
all the security of this earth will stand empty.” 110
So said the wise one in his mind, sitting apart in meditation.
He is good who keeps his word,1 and the man who never too quickly
shows the anger in his breast, unless he already knows the remedy,
how a nobleman can bravely bring it about. It will be well for one who seeks mercy,
consolation from the Father in heaven, where for us all stability stands. 115

The Exeter Book Elegies: "The Wife's Lament"

I make this song of myself, deeply sorrowing,
my own life’s journey. I am able to tell
all the hardships I’ve suffered since I grew up,
but new or old, never worse than now –
5 ever I suffer the torment of my exile.
First my lord left his people
for the tumbling waves; I worried at dawn
where on earth my leader of men might be.
When I set out myself in my sorrow,
10 a friendless exile, to find his retainers,
that man’s kinsmen began to think
in secret that they would separate us,
so we would live far apart in the world,
most miserably, and longing seized me.
15 My lord commanded me to live with him here;
I had few loved ones or loyal friends
in this country, which causes me grief.
Then I found that my most fitting man
was unfortunate, filled with grief,
20 concealing his mind, plotting murder
with a smiling face. So often we swore
that only death could ever divide us,
nothing else – all that is changed now;
it is now as if it had never been,
25 our friendship. Far and near, I must
endure the hatred of my dearest one.
They forced me to live in a forest grove,
under an oak tree in an earthen cave.
This earth-hall is old, and I ache with longing;
30 the dales are dark, the hills too high,
harsh hedges overhung with briars,
a home without joy. Here my lord’s leaving
often fiercely seized me. There are friends on earth,
lovers living who lie in their bed,
35 while I walk alone in the light of dawn
under the oak-tree and through this earth-cave,
where I must sit the summer-long day;
there I can weep for all my exiles,
my many troubles; and so I may never
40 escape from the cares of my sorrowful mind,
nor all the longings that have seized my life.
May the young man be sad-minded3
with hard heart-thoughts, yet let him have
a smiling face along with his heartache,
45 a crowd of constant sorrows. Let to himself
all his worldly joys belong! let him be outlawed
in a far distant land, so that my friend sits
under stone cliffs chilled by storms,
weary-minded, surrounded by water
50 in a sad dreary hall! My beloved will suffer
the cares of a sorrowful mind; he will remember
too often a happier home. Woe to the one
who must suffer longing for a loved one.